


Cribbage

by Seanbiggerstaffrox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Consent Issues, Dom Lydia Martin, Dom/sub, F/M, Pegging, Power Dynamics, Sub Stiles, Sub Stiles Stilinski, handjob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2297087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanbiggerstaffrox/pseuds/Seanbiggerstaffrox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>In the aftermath of the alpha situation, Lydia and Stiles’ relationship gets…weird.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cribbage

In the aftermath of the alpha situation, Lydia and Stiles’ relationship gets…weird.

Lydia gets a bit bossy, which Stiles should have expected - Lydia’s always been bossy. But she seems to be aiming it at Stiles, which is new.

It seems to happen mostly when she’s stressed – she gives Stiles orders and Stiles, confused but willing, complies. It relaxes her, Stiles thinks, and he’s all too happy to please when it comes to Lydia.

It all comes to a head when Lydia’s worrying over a big project. She’s been antsy and distracted for days – high strung and unpleasant – and Stiles’ is hiding behind the row of lockers, peeking around Scott, who he’s using as a shield.

Scott frowns. “Come on dude, it can’t be that bad.”

“Scott, it’s Lydia.” Stiles hisses. “She had me running around town all yesterday looking for low fat, organic, free-trade, cappuccino frozen yogurt. Which, spoiler alert, doesn’t exist.”

Scott snorts. “You could’ve said no.”

“Scott, it’s Lydia.” Stiles repeats.

Scott looks at him, unimpressed with the excuse.

“Dude, she’s scary. She gives you this look like – heeeey, Lydia, what’s up.” Stiles says, trying for casual when the red head suddenly appears. He balances his elbow against the locker and leans with his head in his palm, trying to act like he’s totally not freaking out right now.

Lydia frowns at him before turning to Scott. “I need to borrow him.” She says, grabbing Stiles’ collar and pulling him down the hallway.

“What? Dude!” Stiles says, looking back at Scott with wide eyes. The wolf shrugs and Stiles gives him the finger, because seriously, some friend. “If this is about the yogurt,” Stiles starts, trying to wiggle out of Lydia’s grip and failing. He thinks the Banshee thing gives her wicked strength or something, because his struggles don’t even faze her, which is ridiculous when she’s so much shorter than him.

“It’s not.” Lydia says, steering him down the hall. She pushes him into the supply room and Stiles blinks in the darkness. He turns, watching her close the door.

“Then what is it abou-” Stiles is cut off by her pushing into his space and pressing her lips to his. He frowns, bewildered. “Lydia?” He tries to say against her lips.

“Shut up.” Lydia growls and presses in again, pushing him back against the wall and threading her fingers through his hair. Stiles is confused, but he’s also getting kissed, so he figures what the hell and just goes with it. He leans into the connection and reaches out to hold Lydia.

“Don’t touch.” Lydia says against his lips. Stiles removes his hands from her waist, holding them awkwardly at his side.

Stiles pulls his head away and Lydia’s lips travel down his jaw and over his neck. “Lydia, what-” Stiles starts to ask.

Lydia sighs. “Stiles, my paper’s due in three hours and I haven’t finished the conclusion. I’m stressed and I need to clear my mind. And I can’t do that until I jack you off.”

Stiles blinks, heart stuttering. “What?” He asks.

“I am distracted and I need to focus. Now I can leave right now and find someone else to help me, or you can shut up and finally learn what it’s like to have someone else’s hand on your dick for a change. Your choice.” Lydia says, head tilting and eyes narrowing.

Stiles actually has to think about it, surprisingly. Well, not too surprisingly, given that Lydia’s just given him what is quite possibly the least seductive proposition he could ever imagine. Still, he’s wanted Lydia for as long as he can remember, so this should probably be a dream come true.

Stiles has always imagined different circumstances though. He’s always figured that if he got with Lydia, it would be because she’d realized her deep affection for him and came swooping into his arms, then he’d carry her off into the sunset and make soft, sweet love to her as they journeyed into their happily ever after. A quick handjob in the supply closet seems laughable in comparison.

Things are different for them now, though. Stiles has moved on (sort of) and he’s tossed those fantasies out the window. He’s gotten to know Lydia now too, and a concern that has nothing to do with lack of romance rears its head.

“This isn’t gonna make things weird for us, is it?” Stiles asks.

“Things are already weird.” Lydia points out.

“Fine, weirder.”

Lydia purses her lips, thinking. “Just think of it as doing a favour for a friend.”

_Friend._

Stiles’ stomach flips and a thrill goes through him. He hasn’t put a title on whatever dynamic he and Lydia have going, but now that Lydia’s actually labelled it, he feels a rush of excitement and warmth. His lips twitch into a smile even as he tries not to look too happy.

“Well, you know me.” Stiles says, decision made easy. “Anything for a friend.”

“Good.” Lydia says, smirking. Her lips are on him again in an instant and Stiles almost forgets how to breathe. He definitely forgets the ‘No Touching’ rule and Lydia grabs his wrists, pressing his hands back against the wall.

“Wish I could tie you up.” Lydia mutters.

Stiles’ eyes snap open and he looks at her in surprise. “What?”

Lydia shushes him, lifting a finger and touching it against his lips. “No talking either.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Stiles asks, head falling back against the wall in frustration.

Lydia’s hands work their way under the hem of his shirt, her fingertips lightly dancing across his happy trail. Stiles’ breath catches and he feels Lydia’s lips trace the shell of his ear as she stands on her tip toes, lush body pressing against his.

“Whatever I want.” Lydia answers, sending warm air brushing across his skin.

Stiles swallows, staring unseeing at the space over Lydia’s shoulder. Strands of gorgeous red hair brush against the side of his face, filling his nose with the scent of strawberry shampoo, and he has to resist the urge to press back.

“Now the only sounds I want to hear coming out of that pretty little mouth are ones of pleasure. Got it?” Lydia asks.

Stiles opens his mouth to speak before thinking better of it, nodding instead.

“Good boy.”

Lydia presses kisses down Stiles’ neck, her palms traveling further up his shirt and rubbing against his abdomen. Stiles’ eyelids flutter shut and his hands clench into fists at his side. He feels dwarfed by Lydia at the best of times, but now, despite the near foot he has on her in terms of height, she manages to keep him grounded with a certain authority and prowess. It’s a bit frightening, but it also manages to chip away at the tight anxiety that’s been a permanent fixture in his life as of late. It’s oddly…pleasant. Not that Stiles would ever tell her that. Or anyone, really.

Lydia pushes his shirt all the way up under his armpits and moves down, kissing the edge of one of his nipples. Stiles’ brows furrow a bit in confusion before he feels the soft, moist lap of her tongue running over the nub, drawing a surprised gasp out of him. Lydia lets out a small ‘hm.’

“Sensitive.” She observes, like he’s some sort of science experiment.

Stiles’ breath starts to come faster and nervous sparks break out over every spot Lydia touches. His fingers flex by his side as Lydia’s hands slide around his waist, stroking over his back and moving down the back of his pants. She takes a nipple between her teeth, sucking and nibbling as her thigh slides between his legs and her hands squeeze his buttocks through his briefs. Stiles’ eyelids flutter and he gasps as the warmth from her palms heats him through his underwear and her firm fingers pull his hips forward.

Lydia’s too short for her thigh to make contact with his groin, but she can keep his legs apart, upsetting his balance enough so that he’s leaning back dependently against the wall, sandwiched between her and hard concrete.

Stiles is hard and he blushes, feeling her hips brush his dick through his jeans. Her hands works around to his front and she mutters ‘finally.’ Stiles frowns, but doesn’t point out that he’s not just a piece of meat. Lydia pushes down the waistband of his briefs and Stiles bites his lip, still having a hard time believing this is even happening. It’s too surreal.

Stiles’ cock springs free and he flushes, embarrassed. That feeling quickly turns to disbelief when she pulls lube out of her skirt pocket. He looks at it, wondering if she planned that or if she’s just always that prepared. She slicks up her fingers and wraps them around Stiles’ dick, watching his face carefully. His fingernails dig into his palms and he gasps. Her hand’s soft and warm and absolutely wonderful. Stiles’ head falls back against the wall and he lets out a small moan, ears ringing with the sound as his cock twitches in her grip.

Lydia leans up, pressing her lips to Stiles’ neck. He bares his throat for her, eyes shutting as he takes in the sensations of her mouth on his skin and her hand on his cock. She strokes him firmly and exploratory, feeling over the shape of him and touching all the skin to find the most sensitive areas. It all feels sensitive to him, but she must make sense out of the moans and whimpers slipping past his lips because she returns to particular spots, caressing them until he’s weak in the knees.

Stiles unfurls his fists and presses his fingers back into the wall as his thighs quiver around the leg Lydia has trapped between them. Stiles starts to think that maybe this was a bad idea. Admittedly, there wasn’t much about it that made it seem like a good idea, but he figured it couldn’t be too bad. It’s not that it doesn’t feel good, it just feels a little too good and it’s starting to freak him out, especially when Lydia clearly just expects him to lean back and take it.

“Oh!” Stiles gasps, hips jolting as Lydia’s fingers stroke over the head of his cock.

Lydia pulls her head back, watching him greedily as she pumps his dick. Stiles heats in embarrassment, looking at her with hooded eyes. He has to look away quickly, feeling like her gaze is burning holes into him. She looks so hungry for it and he wonders what the hell he’s gotten into. This isn’t the Lydia he imagined. She was always so sweet and loving in his fantasies but in reality she’s commanding and focused. He wonders how the hell Jackson kept up with it. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s just a matter of letting Lydia take what she wants while sitting back and enjoying it.

Stiles hips twitch as he gets closer and he can already tell this orgasm’s going to be stronger than one when he’s alone. The bell must have rung by now, he realizes. He’ll be late for class. Lydia leans forward, nibbling at the skin under his jaw and kissing a bruise into the flesh. Stiles whines, knowing he’ll have a hickey there and not entirely caring when it sends shocks of warmth racing through him. His body tingles and his dick twitches in her grip.

“Come on.” Lydia urges, stroking him quickly. Stiles moans, because he’s already on edge. He’s already desperate to come and he can’t make it happen any faster.

Stiles’ breath catches and he arches against the wall, quivering as he reaches his climax. Lydia shifts out of the way, letting his cum drip onto the ground instead of landing on her skirt.

“Yes.” Lydia hisses, watching him as he falls apart.

Stiles pants, letting out a small whimper as he pries his eyes open, meeting her gaze. She steps back, pulling a wet wipe out of her pocket and wiping her fingers off. She straightens, adjusting her shirt and brushing her hair back, looking as pristine as always while Stiles feels like a total mess.

Stiles reaches down, pulling his underwear up shyly. “Do you feel better?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yes. That was very…helpful.” Lydia says.

Stiles can’t imagine how, but whatever. “Oh. Good.” He says.

“I have to go finish my paper.” Lydia says, already losing herself in planning it out. “I’ll see you.” She murmurs, distracted, and Stiles blinks, watching her go in confusion.

“Yeah, see you.” He mutters quietly after she’s left. He fixes his clothing and finds a tissue to wipe his cum up with. “Shit.” He curses, when he realizes he’s late for a test. He grabs his backpack and races into the hallway on unsteady legs. He rushes to his classroom and bursts in, out of breath and flushed. He takes a test sheepishly and slides into his seat. Scott looks at him curiously, sniffing him and raising his eyebrows.

‘Lydia?’ Scott mouths.

Stiles blushes and focuses on his exam.


End file.
